


A Casual Business Affair

by mothmansantennae



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, And def stalking, Criminal AU, Dubious Consent?, Exhibitionism, Good Omens AU, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Killer AU, Mildly Dubious Consent, Murder AU, Murderer au, Other, Sadomasochism, Smut, Smut and Violence, Voyeurism, go au, serial killer au, stalker au, there will probably be violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:37:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23007304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothmansantennae/pseuds/mothmansantennae
Summary: If being obsessively stalked is bad, being obsessively stalked by a murderer has to cancel out to some sort of positive. Right?Trying to get out of some damn writers block. A friend came up with this story about serial killer/stalker Gabriel x drug dealer au and my monkey brain went yes let's
Relationships: Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 40





	1. New Clientele

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for TheDreamer240 for coming up with this premise for this story!

It was funny, really, to watch oneself on the news. Well, of course, he supposed it would be different if you'd been interviewed, perhaps if you were an anchor—even a celebrity. But, to see your ransom, the family of your victim, it was drastically different. Gabriel couldn't help but chuckle to himself as he listened to the report, leaning back onto his sofa.

It would be naïve to say that killers could be pinpointed from their appearance or way of life. However, Gabriel was not the man one would peg to have a penchant for murder. He lived a life of luxury, and went to church every Sunday. He donated to the poor, he did community service, and yet; there was an insatiable dark instinct within him.

He found it rather amusing to hear his description from the news anchor. A monster. He wondered, if someone met him, how drastically different their interpretation of him would be. He was charming enough, tall, handsome, and polite. He guessed that his typical description may mirror that.

He tapped his foot, eyes flicking to his phone; it was face up on the cushion beside him, waiting for a reply from a very specific person. Someone he hadn't met, but had heard about quite a bit. A gardener, who took a single apprentice, that supplied medical labs and farmers markets alike with freshly grown botanicals. That wasn't what he was interested in, though. He was intrigued by what they grew between the lines, sold to a market that painted a different picture of them: a satanist with a predilection for hallucinogens.

Gabriel was, of course, familiar with the underground market, but had not yet had a proper interaction with London’s drug lord. He knew _of _them, of course; everyone who dabbled in illegalities did. But the information readily available on them was vague. It was a friend of a friend of a brother of a cousin of a colleague—or something to that tune—that had secured a damned phone number for him, a number which he now anxiously awaited a message from.__

The device had been silent for hours now, to his chagrin. He was a patient man. He could wait. But an anxious voice at the back of his mind didn't like this particular wait, and was ecstatic when he finally heard a _ding! _from beside him.__

_‘If you tell me what you're trying to do, I might be able to find something’ _, it read. He gnawed on his bottom lip for a moment, debating on how to reply. Of course, they had committed just as many, if not more, crimes than him. Feasibly, he could be transparent with his intentions, but that would also be the most idiotic move he could make.__

_‘Incapacitator’ _ended up being the one word response he settled with. It was a long moment before he was given a reply, one filled with anxiety-induced tapping of his shellacked shoes.__

_‘Bring £200 to my market and ask the redhead to see me. 2000 sharp or no deal.’ ___

Gabriel glanced at the clock on the wall. That gave him two hours. Quite enough for him. He sighed softly, placing his phone down onto the table. He took his two hours with care, making sure he had more than they asked for in cash, along with a knife in his pocket to assure himself in the foreign area.

As instructed, he found the address, locking up his car before approaching the building. It was inconspicuous enough, built in a flat in a modest area of the district. He knocked, rather than ringing the bell. He was greeted by the promised redhead, a lanky young man wearing sunglasses—even at this dark hour. He frowned, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hell do you want?” He sneered. He ran his tongue over his oddly sharpened teeth, looking Gabriel up and down.

“I just need to see Bee,” he answered formally, little emotion in his response. The other reluctantly pulled away, unblocking the passage.

“They're in the basement,” he sneered, taking a swig from the bottle in his hand. Gabriel nodded a bit, making a b-line to the stairs. There was a hostile air to the whole building, rather than just its inhabitants. Not the talking type.

The basement was filled with dim red light, quite the adjustment. They saw Bee’s small form sitting at a table full of plants he couldn't pinpoint due to the low visibility. He knocked on the wall, though they didn't look up as they tended to the plants.

They finally pulled back, looking up at Gabriel before checking their watch. “Impressively punctual,” they murmured. “Gabriel, was it?” They asked, pulling off the blue gloves on their hands. As his eyes adjusted to the odd color of the room, he could see they had been tending to blocks of plastic wrapped mycelium, mushrooms sprouting from its sides.

“You did say sharp or no deal,” he shrugged. He saw their face scrunch up when he spoke, watching them fold their arms.

“You're American,” they observed, rolling their eyes. They began back to the stairs, motioning him to follow them. “Don't know how long you've been in the UK, but these sorts of things work different here,” they muttered.

“Well, I was never particularly familiar with the American market in the first place.” As he followed them, he observed the flat carefully. Plants overflowed the place, as he had assumed they would. He wasn't able to identify any of them. Dark berries hung from baskets, though he was sure they weren't anything he knew of.

They rounded a corner into a small kitchen space, kneeling down to the bottom drawer below the counter. There were several cloth bags, each labeled with small paper tags. They grabbed one, checking the label before standing up.

“So, you've never dabbled in drugs before?” They asked, leaning against the counter. Gabriel shook his head, folding his arms.

“Can't say I have,” he answered. He watched as they opened the bag, filled with dried white flowers. They put one in their hand, holding it out.

“Devil’s Breath,” they explained. “Crush them up into a powder or brew them into tea. Low dosages will give you a nice trip, anything above one or two flowers will… well, kinda just turn you into a zombie. Be around someone you trust,” they shrugged, placing the bag on the counter. He nodded slowly, watching them move.

Despite their no-nonsense interaction, something about them intrigued him. Their stature was interesting for someone in their profession, they had to be a lightweight. They barely reached his chest, after all. But, he was more interested in the strange affliction in their voice. It almost sounded strained, shaky and… vibrating, almost.

“So,” they began, breaking the quiet. “You got the cash?” They asked expectantly. Gabriel nodded quickly, moving to get his wallet. He pulled out five fifty pound notes, watching them count them. They raised their brow at the extra fifty, but pocketed it nonetheless. They handed over the sack, folding their arms.

“Alright, kid. I'm not liable for anyone that gets hurt on this.” Ignoring the terribly ironic sentiment, he only chuckled.

“Kid?” He asked. “I’d gander we’re about the same age.” Bee only shrugged, pulling away and beginning towards the door of the flat.

“Text me if you need anything else,” they muttered, opening the door for him. “Don’t get anyone killed.”

Gabriel had to keep himself from laughing at their advice. If only they knew.


	2. Uninvited Third Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey creeps, short ass chapter for some quick development. Next one will be longer I swear!

Bee didn’t necessarily like bars or clubs. The noise was infuriating and they had a short temper. But, they did love their alcohol, and occasionally the allure of intoxication would draw them out of the house. It made them irritable and exhausted, but it brought temporary happiness.

They were out alone tonight, something that was rather dangerous for their small stature. However, prolific criminals didn’t target them. They knew better, knew just how many people would try to murder them. No, it was only casual, impulse crimes. Ones that were never planned, therefore, easy to get out of. Besides, they weren’t above a well-placed needle stick to any potential attacker.

They tapped their nails against the bar table as they waited for a refill on their drink. It was relatively late, maybe an hour or so to close. But by god, if they’d be denied a drink. That wasn’t how they operated. They’d stay until they were kicked out.

This mindset resulted in them being one of the few people left in the pub. It had quieted down, only six or seven other guests left. They hadn’t been paying particular attention to any of them until this point, until they caught a vaguely familiar face on the edge of the room.

It took them a moment to remember Gabriel’s name. He was with a rather artificial looking girl, who had obviously been under the knife once or twice. She seemed drunk out of her mind, they could practically _see _that her speech was slurred. Gabriel murmured something, which made her get up to walk to the bar. They cocked a brow, humming. They would have gone back to minding their own business, had they not spotted him produce an awful familiar looking flower. They had to scoff quietly. They had suspicions he had bought it with dubious intent, but as long as they got their money, they couldn’t care less.__

They watched him grind the dried petals between his fingers, letting it fall into the beer the girl had been drinking. They hummed a bit, shrugging their shoulders and taking back the rest of their liquor. The girl came back after a few minutes with a basket of chips, sitting down beside him. They both laughed and ate, but most importantly, drank. The girl finished the beer without a second thought.

Poor thing.

Gabriel was quite pleased to see the girl ingest the drug without any suspicion. He smiled some, continuing his act as a charming young suitor. He couldn't say he felt bad for misleading and drugging her—he was going to murder her, a after all—but, he did feel like he was playing dirty. Especially due to her petite stature, general lack of defense. He prided himself on being a strong killer. He didn't need to prey on the helpless, at least, specifically. But… he took what he could.

Once she had had three more drinks, and he deemed her sufficiently inebriated, he pushed himself to stand, extending his hand to her. “Let's get out of here, yeah?” He asked. She nodded absentmindedly, taking his hand and stumbling to follow him out. He didn't notice the small figure get up and follow them out.

To get her to a house took too long for his taste. He didn't need to be secluded, and he was getting impatient. An alleyway was good enough for him. She didn't question as he took off his coat, nor when he pulled out a cleaver from its inner pocket. She was too far gone, and truly didn't care.

“Be quiet for me?” He asked sweetly, taking her hand in his own. She only giggled, not even noticing as he brought the weapon down until she felt her hand be sliced clean off. The appendage fell to the concrete with a sickening splat. Be hushed her before she could even make a sound.

From the edge of the alleyway, their unwelcome third guest watched intently, casually smoking a joint. Bee had a morbid curiosity to see what he would do to the girl, and they couldn't say they were disappointed in what they saw. They had never been an accomplice to murder—that they knew of—before, and it was honestly exhilarating. They didn't find it concerning, though, that they were so thoroughly enjoying seeing this poor girl being chopped to bits. And the sight of Gabriel, sleeves rolled up, covered in blood; well, that didn't hurt at all.

When it seemed he had had his fun, standing over the bits and pieces of the long dead young woman, they finally spoke. “Gotta say, that isn't what I expected you to use that for.” Gabriel whipped around, clearly startled by the sudden intrusion.

“How long have you been standing there?” He asked, sudden paranoia in his voice.

“Since you left the bar. Gotta be more careful about that, huh?” They took a drag, blowing the smoke back into his face.

“You say a thing, and you're dead,” he threatened. They only scoffed, shaking their head.

“Me? Talk to the cops? My flat is stuffed with drugs. You really think I'd run that risk?” They asked. “Just don’t be a dumbass. If you get caught, this traces back to me.” They tossed what was left of their joint to the bloodied cement, snuffing it out with their boot. They turned on their heel, beginning out of the alleyway.

“You're pretty hot covered in blood, anyways."


	3. Just a Little Show

Bee wasn't very bright. And they'd admit that. They were a dropout, and literally made their money off of drugs. However, they weren’t an _idiot _. They were extremely aware of their surroundings. They had to be. When they had noticed that a certain murderous client of theirs suddenly happened to appear just about anywhere they were, they quickly caught wind about what was happening.__

They found it quite flattering, honestly. They should have been fearing for their life when they realized a crazed killer was stalking them. But, they just… didn't. Glancing out of their window to see his luxury car, getting texts just to check up on them. They felt… safer, honestly. Like they had a bit of a guardian angel. Knowing that he, someone who had no gripes with tearing someone apart, felt that they were something worth checking on, was quite a power trip, quite the blandishment.

The ringtone they reserved for their customers was a welcome one, especially on a bad day. However, they found themselves disappointed to see when it wasn't him. His visits had become longer, he had allowed much more of a charming personality to show, and he always left an excessive tip. It was lovely.

When that same tone rang, they were on the couch with Anthony and his boyfriend, watching some shitty reality show they couldn't care less about. They quickly snatched up their phone, sighing when they saw some other name on the screen. Not someone they disliked, but… that was beside the point. Dagon was just a girl that enjoyed a good trip. More a friend than a customer. They quickly replied, tossing the phone aside, now to wait for her. Anthony glanced over at his boss, cocking a brow.

“That your boy toy?” He sneered, leaning back. Anthony absolutely despised Gabriel, even if he didn't know of his penchant for murder. He just… didn't like him.

“I won't hesitate to shove ricinus down your throat,” they grumbled, leaning back to close their eyes. They stayed like that until the door rang, then dragging themselves up to answer the door.

“Bee!” Dagon hummed, immediately greeting them with a hug. They didn't do much but pat her on the back.

“Dagon,” they replied, their voice tired. She pulled back from them, waltzing past them through the door. They began to close it, though paused when they spotted Gabriel’s car on the other side of the row. They cocked a brow, giving his general direction a vague smile before shutting the front door. “Usual, something else?” They asked, turning to look at her.

“Whatever,” she hummed, stretching her arms above her head. “You got some shrooms?”

“Always,” they hummed, beginning to the basement door. The two stayed quiet as Bee grabbed a pocket knife off of the table. They used the curved blade to take off a few mushrooms. They handed one over to Dagon, taking two for themselves.

They handed her share over, sitting down as they popped one in their mouth. They absolutely despised the texture, but the taste was worse. They were sour, a taste foul enough to make them scrunch up their face in distaste. The trip was worth the brief bad experience, in their opinion.

“Alright,” they muttered. “No way I'm staying down here. Care to come up?” They asked, beginning back upstairs. They didn't check to see if she was following, just making their way up to their bedroom. They pulled open the dark curtains to let the blue moonlight in, sighing gently as they heard Dagon closed the door behind her. “So, what have you been up to?” They asked casually.

“Eh, you know,” she shrugged, lying down on their bed. “Office work. Shitty. Lots of work. You feel me?” She asked, rubbing her face.

“I guess,” they shrugged, leaning against the window. They looked over to where Gabriel’s car was parked, smiling a bit and folding their arms. He never made eye contact with them--like he thought they didn’t know. It was almost endearing.

They sat down in the window seat, turning to face Dagon. “Office work sucks ass. I’m so glad I quit.”

“Not everyone can be a goddamn drug lord, Bee,” she chuckled, shaking her head. She looked at her hands, watching as still things swirled in her inebriated vision. It was a pleasant enough trip, though Dagon left maybe thirty minutes later, leaving them to their own devices.

Bee lay on their bed, their head hanging over the edge. Their vision was still swirled and moving, even in the dim light they sat in. Any more illumination would be too much for their head. This was the worst bit of a trip--coming down from the high. Their head hurt, colors were annoying, and they couldn’t focus on any one thing. They sighed quietly, reaching up to run a hand through their hair.

They let their eyes wander to the window, their sight lingering on the still-present black Mercedes on the other side of the street. They wondered briefly what exactly he _did _while he waited there. Sure, watched, but they weren't always visible from his spot. They had to giggle quietly, rubbing their face. They had to admire his dedication.__

They had to wonder, too, about what exactly he hoped to see. It wasn’t like they did anything particularly interesting. They did all their work in the windowless basement, and anything, well, _worth seeing, _they did in private. They supposed they could give him something… worth seeing.__

God, the decisions they made while they were high.

They ran a hand up their chest, letting it rest at their neck. It was funny, really. When they had met them, they were sure that they’d hate him. And yet, here they were, ready to put on a show for him. “Christ…” they muttered, having to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it. They pushed their other hand down to their lap, tucking it between their legs. They pressed their fingers down into their skin, beginning to rock their hips.

They sighed softly, shutting their eyes tightly. They worked themselves like that for a while, eventually getting restless enough to stop. They groaned, unbuttoning and kicking off their jeans. Their boxers had a visible wet spot, much to their chagrin. They rolled their eyes, reaching over their shoulders to tug up their shirt. They eventually got it off, tossing it across the room. They rubbed their arms for a moment, sighing gently as they laid back down. They worked their hand under the waistband of their boxers, pushing two fingers into their entrance. They gasped, their back arching up off of the bed as they did.

Bee was in full view of the window, though it was late enough that no one was out. Well, besides Gabriel, of course. He had been content simply sitting in his car, only beginning to pay attention again when Dagon left and Bee reappeared in their room. And by god, he was glad he had.

He was bright red at this point, his heart hammering uncomfortably quickly. He didn't think he'd had a childish reaction like this since high school, but god. He'd admit, his infatuation with them to this point had been purely upon their personality and intellect. But the physical attribute… well, that was just the cherry on top.

Somehow, though, it wasn't just what they were doing, it was _how they were doing it. _The way they were moving, in particular, shaking, and yet in such graceful poise. It was… intoxicating.__

How befitting.

He could probably let his imagination run wild for weeks from the single moment. But, he had to wonder… if he could make it _better _. Never one to back down from a challenge, he supposed he’d give an excuse for contact; picking up his phone and dialing Bee’s number.__

They had to chuckle when they saw his name pop up on their phone. A bold move, one they’d praise him for one of these days. They sighed with a grin, answering it and holding it to their ear. “ _Gabriel, _” they greeted, acutely aware of just how desperate their voice sounded. “To what do I owe the call?”__

He swore, his heart just about stopped then and there. The way they sounded practically _moaning his name, _god, it was delicious. “Bee,” he responded, his voice all too convincingly calm. “I was wondering if you'd be able to meet up tonight for a trade.” He caught a grin split across their face, though they didn't quit moving.__

“ _Mm, _how’s twenty minutes sound?” They hummed, gasping a bit towards the end.__

He had to smile. “Sounds fine on my end. I’ll see you then.”

Now, that's about where they'd hang up. However, they just gave a dismissive hum, placing their phone down on their nightstand, not making any move to end the call. They sighed heavily, a cocky grin decorating their lips when they saw he hadn't either.

Voyeuristic prick.

They weren't really a loud one in bed in the first place. But, now that they had an audience, they supposed they could make _some _effort. They wet their lips, sighing as they redoubled their efforts.__

They melted themselves into a moaning mess easily enough, turning over on their stomach so the noises were vaguely muddled. It was a fun little game, they thought, to find just the right thing that could get him worked up. They were being a bastard, and they knew it, but there was really no ‘good guy’ in this situation.

They glanced at the phone, checking the call timer. Ten more minutes. They supposed, there was one thing that might _really _rile him up.__

They brought their hand to their mouth, biting down on it. It muddled their noises terribly, but they'd make up for it. They pressed their teeth into their skin until they felt it break. The taste of blood flooded their mouth as they gasped, pulling away quickly.

“ _Fuck~ _” they moaned, grinning when they heard Gabriel’s breath hitch on the other end of the line. They held their injured hand to their chest as they finished themselves off, blood covering their pale skin as they bucked their hips.__

They couldn't have kept the last few words in, even if they had wanted to. They let their head fall forward, their gasps becoming loud and desperate. “Fuck, _fuck, Gabriel! _" They whined, their body going limp as they came. They were covered in blood and cum, a mess, really. But, they barely cleaned up besides licking their hand clean of their juices, shakily moving to get dressed.__

____

____

He may have been voyeuristic, but they were just as much of an exhibitionist.


End file.
